


The Revealing of Eleanor Halfling

by NonautonomousToast



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-05 06:13:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13381842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NonautonomousToast/pseuds/NonautonomousToast
Summary: Eleanor a former mage of the Kirin Tor enjoys her life as is. She's allowed to research arcane at her leisure without interruptions from the real world. A request from the King interrupts her life and sends her on a quest halfway across the continent. Together, Eleanor travels with two paladins to her birthplace of Quel'Thalas only to find nothing she expected at all. (Post Legion, Pre BFA, rated M for future).





	1. And So It Begins

_Eleanor_

  
Darkness

  
_Eleanor_

  
Turned to light

  
_Eleanor_

  
With each passing breath it intensified.

  
_Eleanor_

  
It grew stronger and stronger, so overwhelmingly powerful. She could no longer keep her eyes shut. The high elf opened her eyes and the intoxicating light dissipated and opened itself to the natural glow of her bedroom.

  
“ELEANOR!”

  
Her blue flickering eyes danced radiantly as they became accustomed to daylight. Eleanor ripped off her blankets and quietly crossed the wooden floor and down her short stairs to the door of her small home.

  
“Damn paladin,” she murmured under her breath. Did she know what time of the morning it was?

  
Eleanor pushed open her front door. Standing before her was a human paladin, this was their first meeting and to Eleanor, the paladin wasn’t starting off on the correct foot. She did notice her new comrade was already cladded in her armor. It was Stormwind standard issue but with a Knight of the Silver Hand’s taste. Her golden armor shone in the morning sunlight, the lion head pauldrons were massive on her shoulders, but not overbearing. The rest was what you expected for a paladin of the Alliance and in its glory the royal standard stitched on her tabard. Eleanor looked her up and down; there was something odd about the human’s armor. She had a two handed warhammer strapped to her back and acted as if it didn’t bother her in the slightest; Eleanor would be hunched halfway over with its weight. A glamourous hue emanated from the armor that reeked of enchantment. Eleanor cocked her head to the side.

  
“How much gold did you spend shoring up that shoddy armor?”

  
Yes, her first words to her new partner were disparaging, but, the high elf wanted to see her reaction. The human pursed her lips and extended her gauntleted hand.

  
“Liora Hightower.”

  
The shake that followed was weak and half-hearted, hopefully this wasn’t to be the tone of their relationship. Eleanor motioned with a hand for Liora to come in. The armored boots clinked with each step Liora took.

  
Eleanor’s house was small, two stories, but still small. The fireplace served as both a pedestal of warmth and as the main engine for cooking. An array of pots were stacked on top of one another near the hearth. One chair was situated in front of fireplace, a comfortable recliner a gnomish engineer made for her. A small table was across the room, near the ice chest that was lightly stocked with food. Her house was overwhelmingly covered in books, they were everywhere. Any free place was stacked with books, shelves were overflowing. Liora fingered the many that were in front of her, stroking their spines.

  
“You can look at them, not sure if you’d enjoy them; mostly on the arcane,” Liora picked up an expansive volume, already flipping through its pages. “I do have an intellectual mind, the Light is not practiced and utilized by anyone.”

  
“I mean no offense.”

  
Liora smiled. “None taken.”

  
Eleanor glided to the stairs. “I shall quickly change then we can be on our way. If you could - no, no, put that down.” Liora had Eleanor’s staff in her hands.

  
“Not wise to keep such a potent weapon idly, mage.” She pointed the bundle of crystals toward the ceiling. “Especially one of this magnitude.”

  
Eleanor reached for it, gripping it by mid-shaft.

  
“It’s mostly a glorified fire starter, now please, put it down.”

  
Liora placed it back against the wall and watched as Eleanor nearly sprinted up the stairs.

  
The high elf quickly changed into something more mobile and more fitting for their upcoming meeting. Eleanor started with her base layer, a blue long sleeve shirt and trousers, then added her light chainmail on top and then topped it off with a leather jerkin. She nearly forgot to lace up her bracers, she would usually stuff her sleeves under them, they were always too long. Eleanor pulled on her leather boots and grasped her cloak that was hanging from the wall and nearly silently came down the stairs.

  
“Shall we head to the keep then?”

  
Liora was sitting in one of the few chairs still fingering a book. The paladin placed it down and followed behind Eleanor who grabbed her bow and quiver of arrows that were leaning against the wall, right by her front door. She glanced back at her staff in thought quickly pushing whatever was in her mind out and headed outside.

  
They walked down the cobblestoned street of the old district. Eleanor hadn’t lived in Stormwind for very long. Personally she felt old enough, 30, to live by herself. For high elves though, she was still considered a teenager, something her adoptive family didn’t forget. She couldn’t quite remember the circumstances that lead to her family but she was placed in the care of Rhonin Redhair, the former leader of the Kirin Tor and his quel’dorei wife, Vereesa Windrunner. The circumstances of her being placed into their custody was still a mystery to her, a mystery she didn’t want to uncover. Eleanor was quite happy with her life. A former mage of the Kirin Tor she spent most of her time researching and making the occasional trip to see Vereesa, something she made a priority since Rhonin’s sacrifice in Theramore. It also allowed her to see her adoptive siblings, Galadin and Giramar.

  
Rhonin’s death had hit Eleanor rather hard. Not only for him being a fatherly figure to her, but for being her one and only teacher. Since his death, Eleanor had to look elsewhere and there weren’t many notable mages left in the world of Azeroth that could teach her anything other mages didn’t already know. So, with that knowledge, Eleanor scoured through Rhonin’s expansive library to acquire and fortify her skills and to also deal with her grief. Eleanor spent hours upon hours each day in the early days of his death devouring his vast collection. It got to the point where Vereesa had to get involved and forcibly remove Eleanor from his library, but she didn’t want to let go.

  
“If you’re a mage,” Liora broke her from her useless muling and brought her back to the land of the humans. “Why do you have a bow and not your staff?”

  
Eleanor didn’t wait long to answer her question.

  
“I’m a former mage, I don’t practice much magic anymore. That path ended quite a time ago. “

  
“So the bow and arrows?”

  
Eleanor arched one of her elegantly long eyebrows. “I am quel’dorei, I know how to use a bow, paladin,” she replied icily.

  
Liora took it in stride.

  
“That would be like me being a paladin and becoming an agent for SI:7, doesn’t make much sense.”

  
Eleanor could hear the humor in her voice, she thought it was funny.

  
“It’s a tad more complicated than that, but that would require me to be three sheets to the wind to tell that story and I don’t think Stormwind has enough ale.”

  
Liora laughed, “A special trip to Ironforge will be needed later then, I think it may be against their laws to not have a long standing supply of alcohol.”

  
Liora had quite the easy going personality, Eleanor noted. That would make whatever request that would come to them a tad more easier to swallow.

  
They had made it to Stormwind Keep and with it its magnificence. Eleanor was always in awe of it. Even having lived in the grand Violet Citadel of Dalaran for a time Stormwind Keeps’ enormity kept her entranced. Liora began the long walk up the stone steps that lead to the throne room. Eleanor broke from her trance and trailed behind the paladin as they made their way through the expansive hall that lead to the throne of Stormwind.

  
His Majesty’s throne was empty, but someone was waiting for them. Eleanor immediately recognized who it was.

  
“Vereesa, nice to see you.”

  
The elven ranger smiled in acknowledgment but her facial expression quickly changed to a more serious look.

  
“The King wants to speak to us in private; follow me.”

  
Eleanor and Liora followed the Ranger-General down another large hall to a smaller room. It had a large table in the middle with a map of the Eastern Kingdoms spread across it. Surrounding the table were many strong figures in the Alliance, militaristically and politically. Eleanor couldn’t identify everyone, she assumed the well dressed people in the back were the House of Nobles or as she heard someone once say in the Pig and Whistle: “Stormwinds worst.” A grisled man leaning over the map staring deep into its features was King Greyman of Gilneas, he notably had scared the life out of Eleanor anytime she’s ever seen him. Archmage Khadgar was next to him, resting against his staff, he gave Eleanor a graceful nod.

  
Eleanor had reached out to him after Rhonin’s death to finish her training, but he didn’t believe there was much more he could teach her that she already didn’t know, which had upset her quite a bit. Eleanor recognized Turalyon and her adopted mother’s sister, Alleria Windrunner. She had met their son long before she had met them, Arator was a close confidant of Eleanor’s. She found herself standing directly across from the King, Anduin Wrynn.

  
Sympathy. Anguish. Pain.

  
That’s all she could think of when she saw him. Flickers of Anguish and pain remained, Eleanor could still see it in his eyes. They weren’t as alive as they used to be, the blue was more subdued and filled with sorrow. She had sympathized with him greatly when she heard of his father’s death, but Anduin was a steadfast young man and he knew to put duty over his feelings like his father had.  
“Good,” Anduin clasped his hands together and wore a warm smile as everyone was situated around the table, “Shall we begin then?”

  
Silence.

  
“Khadgar, please explain.”

  
Khadgar cleared his throat.

  
“You’re probably wondering why you are all here?”

  
Audible groans were heard throughout the room. Eleanor was confused, why were they groaning at Archmage Khadgar?

  
“Alright,” Khadgar pursed his lips and dipped the point of his staff down at the map. “I recovered some old writings that Medivh left behind when I was searching through Karazhan during the Legion’s invasion. They speak of a child who was born during the second war in Quel’Thalas and according to Medivh, a child with the promise of wielding great power.”

  
One of the nobles scoffed from the back of the room.

  
“How do we know this child, who is now an adult, is even alive? Arthas scourged Quel’Thalas and the high elf population that survived are now loyal to the Horde. I don’t like this.”

  
“What do you want from us, Khadgar?” King Greymane asked the mage, his voice almost identical to a growl. Khadgar smiled.

  
“It is imperative we find this person, we don’t want them to fall into the hands of the Horde. If my numbers are correct and my understanding of the high elf lifespan, this unknown person is an elven adolescent. Correct?” Khadgar motioned towards Alleria and Vereesa, expecting an answer out of the two Windrunner sisters.

  
“This…. _person_ as you so lightly put it, would be around Eleanor’s age if the supposed date of birth is correct,” Vereesa shook her head, “I truly don’t expect this person to be found, let alone alive. Arthas took his toll not only on the land but our people.”

  
Khadgar grimaced, but a sudden rise in his eyebrows meant an idea had placed itself into his head.  
“There is a reason we requested both of you here.” The Archmage moved closer to Eleanor and Liora. “The two of you shall go to Quel’Thalas and search for any clues to our mysterious person.”

  
Genn Greymane snarled.

  
“You want to send them into enemy territory! Have you lost your mind, Khadgar?”

  
Khadgar smiled at the worgen king.

  
“No, but, no one knows her face. No one knows she is with the Alliance,” he pointed to Eleanor, “but she is a halfling and then the human on the other hand…”

  
“Illusion magic isn’t my specialty,” Eleanor interjected. She could feel the glare pierce her very soul from Vereesa, “but I could give it a shot. Just long enough for us to get into Quel’Thelas undetected.”

  
Liora hadn’t made a sound since they had entered the Keep, her companion must’ve been the quiet type. Eleanor mused that information to herself.

  
“That would be incredibly dangerous, even as a Windrunner we are not revered as we once were.” Alleria interrupted her thoughts.

  
“She’s right,” Vereesa agreed, “You would be seen as a Windrunner in their eyes if your identity is found out.”

  
“Khadgar, may I have a moment with Vereesa?”

  
“Of course, yes, let us all take a break and mull our options, shall we?”

  
Eleanor led her adopted mother into the hallway.

  
“I will be fine, let me do this.” Eleanor was rather excited to get back out into the world. Ever since the Legion’s end she had been a bit bored. The Windrunner glare, Eleanor had had it used on her a number of times, but most recently she had seen it used on the twins.

  
“Traveling into Horde territory with a human on a fool’s quandary is less than ideal,” Vereesa placed her hands on Eleanor’s cheeks, “I lost one piece of my heart, I can not lose another.”

  
“Aunt Alleria, what do you think?”

  
Alleria came out of the shadows, her green armor matched that of Vereesa’s blue armor, with her arms crossed pondering the thought.

  
“If you stay away from Silvermoon and the highly traveled areas of Eversong," her voice teeming with the Void, "you may go unnoticed for a time.”

  
Vereesa grimaced at Alleria’s words.

  
“I don’t like how cloaked in shadow this all is. Sending you both in blind, it doesn’t sit well with me.”

  
“Not two going in, but three.”

  
They all looked behind them.

  
“Arator.”

  
The son of Turalyon and Alleria Windrunner came to a halt in front of them.

  
“Hello,” he greeted them, smiling, “Archmage Khadgar sent me a missive and here I am.”

  
Arator was a pleasant sight to Eleanor, but traveling with three people instead of two would only increase their chances of being caught or worse: imprisoned and executed. She knew the idea put Vereesa on edge, she had been on edge since Rhonin’s death and Eleanor going into Horde territory would make it worse. With the inclusion of Arator on their journey and Alleria and Turalyon’s recent return to Azeroth, being separated from their son again would likely not sit well with them. But if these writings from Medivh were true, something had to happen did it not?  
Eleanor placed her hand on Vereesa’s shoulder, softly squeezing.

  
“We will be fine. I’ve fought against the Legion, the Horde. I was there at the fall of Arthas, of Deathwing. This is a simple search and seizure mission. If we find nothing in a few days we’ll be back; this’ll last no more than a few weeks.”

  
Vereesa wasn’t happy. Her eyes were blazing more than usual with her lips formed into a frown. She shook her head.  
“You’re more than capable of doing this, I’m just being a bit… apprehensive towards everything of late.”

  
“You both taught me well.”

  
Vereesa raised her eyebrows, amusement spread across her face.

  
“I taught you well, Rhonin on the other hand,” she winked, “did his best.”

  
The two of them returned to the room of Stormwind Keep where Khadgar was again explaining more of the writings left behind by Medivh.

  
“My former mentor left very vague notes.”

  
Eleanor watched as the nobles voiced their countering opinions, Greymane would voice his own with Alleria and Vereesa offer small tidbits. But Anduin was mostly silent as he perused over the map of the upper Eastern Kingdoms. His hand, bearing a Stormwind signet ring, traced over a preferred path, over and over. Eleanor watched as he did, her eyes fixated on his hand. She coyly walked behind the mass of people clamoring around the table. Their voices were starting to increase in volume as the discussion progressed into arguing.

  
“What’re you pondering, Your Majesty?”

  
Anduin took his hand up above the map for a moment and stuck his index finger down.

  
“You should fly to the border between the Wetlands and Arathi Highlands and then continue on foot to Refuge Point where there will be fresh horses waiting for you. From there you’ll travel into Hillsbrad going past Durnholde Keep and once you hit the river you’ll go north along its banks, be careful to avoid Tarren Mill. Follow the river until you reach Anderhal.” He traced the map as he went through their path, keeping pace with his instructions. “When you hit Eastern Plaguelands follow the road until Light Hope’s Chapel. Rest and then continue to the gate between there and Ghostlands. From there you’ll have to continue on foot; I can only advise you so far.”

  
Eleanor liked Anduin’s proposed path and it could work. Some spots would be tricky, going past Tarren Mill and not tipping the Horde off would be an adventure. Once they made it into the Eastern Plaguelands making it to Light’s Hope would only require them to watch out for remnants of the Scourge. Once they made it to the Ghostlands their mission would begin and their senses would be heightened. Thick in Horde territory, as well as the remaining Scourge, could cause them some problems.

  
Eleanor didn’t notice the ensuing chaos going on between the Stormwind House of Nobles and Greymane along with Khadgar. The Windrunner sisters were conversing with Turalyon. The many Alliance leaders in the room were oblivious of one another but their voices kept increasing.  
She found it all amusing. Eleanor was used to the calm and collected minds of the Kirin Tor not the abrasive politics and bureaucratic norms of the Stormwind monarchy. She learned early on in her time here that the House of Nobles were involved in everything whether they needed to be or not. Eleanor had observed in the past how Varian dealt with the nobles, which was him completely ignoring them. Anduin, on the other hand, was a bit more diplomatic. He listened to their council but more or less disregarded it for his own advisers. At this point in time, the nobles were for show; they truly had no power.

  
“Silence!” The High King roared, raising his hand to quiet the raucous politicians down. “Eleanor, Arator, and Liora will travel to Quel’Thalas and take part in Archmage Khadgar’s gambit, but they will also take part in reconnaissance as well. There are unconfirmed reports of Forsaken and Silvermoon forces assembling for an offensive strike on neighboring Alliance territories. They will have one week in Quel’Thalas to find any clues to this mysterious figure the former Guardian’s writings speak of.”

  
Anduin pressed his finger firmly back on the location of Light’s Hope Chapel. “When you’re all safely out of Quel’Thalas you will rendezvous back at Light’s Hope, but before that a detour will be made. The three of you will travel back near Durnholde keep but go towards the Dalaran crater where Gilnean forces will be waiting for you to help you travel into Silverpine by sailing across Lordamere Lake into Tirisfal Glades. Do your reconnaissance and then return to Light’s Hope where Gryphons will be waiting to return you to Stormwind for a full report.”  
Eleanor leaned on the table scanning their preferred route. It would be long and could take up to a month for them to return. The rest of the room was relatively quiet except for the huffing and gruffing of the nobles. Khadgar clasped his hands together.

  
“Good, I shall share Medivh’s notes with you and then if there is nothing holding you all back, you should be off this afternoon.”

  
_That soon?_

  
Leaving that quickly left Eleanor a bit by surprise, she didn’t have her bag with her. She had dressed with the thought of going out on a mission but not one that sent her to the other side of the continent. She did not expect to be heading to the land of her own birth this morning. Arator and Liora both flanked her, each on their own sides. Both of their eyes showed an eagerness to get moving, to go on an adventure. She too was eager, it had been quite some time since she had been on her own adventure.


	2. Off To the Highlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor a former mage of the Kirin Tor enjoys her life as is. She's allowed to research arcane at her leisure without interruptions from the real world. A request from the King interrupts her life and sends her on a quest halfway across the continent. Together, Eleanor travels with two paladins to her birthplace of Quel'Thalas only to find nothing she expected at all. (Post Legion, Pre BFA, rated M for future).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the following ones will include spoilers for Battle for Azeroth as well as the most recent patch of Legion, 7.3.5.

_ Includes spoilers from Patch 7.3.5 and Battle for Azeroth (upcoming chapters) _

It hadn’t taken long for Khadgar to share with them Medivh’s writings; it was a measly passage from his journal. 

“All he mentions is this  _ incredible _ surge of power in the world at one point in the second war. The birth of a child in Quel’Thalas.” 

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Does he have anything more specific written down? Because if he doesn’t… this is going to be a wild goose chase.” She held the single page in her hand reading it over and over, even flipping it over to see if there was anything on its backside; nothing.

Khadgar frowned, he too had hoped from more from his teacher. The archmage shrugged his shoulders.

“There isn’t much more I can give you but Medivh is insistent on finding this child. I’ve never witnessed something written so anxiously.. It must mean  _ something _ .” 

What in the world were these leaders trying to get them into? All that they had to go on was a single piece of paper with a hastily written journal entry only mentioning the birth of a child that coincided with a massive surge of power into the world. At least they had the fact that this child, who would actually be an adult now, was from Quel’Thalas but even so, the Third War ravaged Eversong Woods and its adjacent lands, how did they even know that this powerful figure was even still alive? Eleanor nearly crumbled the paper in her hands but stopped herself when Liora reached for it.

“Here,” Eleanor handed it to the paladin, “try to decipher some meaning from it.”

“I don’t think there’s a point in doing that.” Liora folded the journal passage and stuffed it into her bag. “What we should do now is form a strategy; what to do, where to go and how to go about it. There are a few places to check through for clues in the Ghostlands, so that won’t be much of a problem. Eversong Woods, that will be a problem.” 

Eleanor didn’t even notice that Vereesa had invaded their conversation, let alone their little bubble.

“Getting into Eversong will be incredibly dangerous. Since before my time the woods were enchanted to notify the rangers of any outsiders crossing the border. Once you cross into the deeper parts of Quel’Thalas the Horde will know.” 

Eleanor was playing with a hangnail on her opposite finger, wiggling it back and forth. This journey was about to become as painful as removing this hangnail. She tweedled with it some more.

“We’ll be fine, I don’t have my staff but I can enchant some arrows to do some harrowing damage to any members of the Horde that come our way.” 

“No,” Anduin was firm, “none of that. This is a search and seizure as well as a reconnaissance mission. Don’t kill any members of the Horde.” 

They weren’t telling her everything, Eleanor could see that it was as plain as day. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” The former mage was adamant, her voice was hard. She wanted the truth. 

Vereesa motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs. The half elf’s brows were furrowed and her hands were gripping her knees, cocking her head waiting for her adopted mother to speak.

“Years ago, a child was bore by my sister, Sylvanas and her lover, Nathanos. They had a boy, Talanas, who was named after the first Windrunner to wield Thas’Dorah. The thought was that the young boy died but Sylvanas had him sent away before Arthas invaded with the Scourge. It’s rumored he’s back in Eversong and we need him found.” 

Laughter. Eleanor couldn’t believe it, the Banshee Queen had a son roaming the world? Impossible. The half-elf stuck her hand over her mouth trying to muffle the noise. 

“Why hasn’t Sylvanas gone and reclaimed him yet? It has been years since she has affirmed her grip on her free will. What’s stopping her?”

“Because,” Khadgar began, “it is believed that the Warchief thinks he died. If he is the one we are searching for we cannot let him be revealed to the Horde and his power placed in their hands.”

“That’s why Arator is coming isn’t it? To meet his cousin?”

Both Arator and Alleria shook their heads. 

“It’s very likely he has no idea of our existence. I was gone when Sylvanas would have sent him away and Arator is going because….” 

Alleria looked to her son waiting for an explanation.

“Khadgar asked me to go,” he sheepishly grinned adding a wink, “our adventures tend to end up fun.” 

Eleanor made a  _ hmph _ sound, half heartedly agreeing with him. “I suppose you are correct. We tend to get ourselves into some  _ fun _ encounters as of late.” 

“Nearly getting killed on Argus wasn’t fun,” Vereesa interjected, “I should’ve made you stay in Suramar.”

Khadgar intervened before the conversation could go to off track. He carried a map in his hands and gave it to Liora. “I have marked places of intrigue in the Ghostlands and Eversong Woods, places that may be of significance to your search. Find this man and bring him here.”

“What if he doesn’t want to? How do we convince him to come with us?” Liora had rarely spoke this entire time but once again brought up another important point.

Khadgar brought the tip of his finger up and rested it on his chin. 

“An important prospect to ponder,” he waved the notion away, “I think you can easily convince him to fall asleep.” Winking in Eleanor’s direction.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. The longer she learned about this mission the more she realized she’d have to revive her dormant arcane powers. One item of importance that wasn’t in her possession was her staff. It served as an important focus for her when she channeled her magic. Eleanor could do without it but her spells may be a tad more erratic than she would want, especially in a region like Quel’Thalas where their sentries would more than likely be looking out for any sort of arcane abnormality. The thought of it didn’t sit well with her.

“I need to retrieve my staff.”

Khadgar’s mouth curved its way into a soft smile.

“That is another thing, I had someone take care of that for you.” 

What appeared to be a blob of purple and pink was holding Eleanor’s staff in its hands, the long, thin clear crystal pointing upwards towards the ceiling. 

One of Khadgar’s servants, Eleanor had seen the magical apparition numerous times throughout her adventures. It was always there to show her around, she had no idea it could  _ actually  _ do things. But alas there it was standing before, Eleanor’s wooden staff in its clutches. The apparition of magical energy left behind a trail of arcane dust behind it as it came even closer to them, situating itself next to its master.

“I have what you asked of me.” 

The magical creature extended the staff to its master for acceptance. 

Khadgar extended his arm towards Eleanor. 

“Not to me, to her.”

Again, the conjured servant extended the staff but this time to Eleanor, who graciously accepted it. 

The dark wooden staff felt like home in her hands. It was crafted with wood from Hillsbrad and had been enchanted by the magi of the Kirin Tor at Rhonin’s request. Because of that enchantment the crystal emanated a subtle glow that reminded everyone of its power. Eleanor held it in her hands and memories of Rhonin slipped into her mind. 

_ “No, no!” the red-headed mage was anxious, “that is  _ not _ a playtoy!”  _

_ The young little elf was standing on a chair peering up and barely able to see over the table that held many alchemic instruments. The little one reach for the closest thing she could see; a bunsen burner. The red headed mage quickly grabbed it off the table and clutched it to his chest like it was his own child. The young girl in his care scrunched her eyes at him, inquisitively looking up; curiosity spread across her face.  _

_ Archmage Rhonin Redhair sighed, he could never say no to that face.  _

_ He placed the alchemic device down and picked the five year old up and hoisted her on his shoulders. As Rhonin had predicted the young elf was leaning towards his many books, her hand headed towards one of many.  _

The Schools of Arcane Magic: Necromancy  _ was emblazoned on its spine, with the tip of his finger Rhonin moved Eleanor’s hand towards a different and more friendly book:  _ The Worst Mage in Dalaran - A Children's Book. 

_ Eleanor had her prize against her chest as Rhonin lifted her over his head and placed her feet back onto the floor. He watched her make her way to the red couch, climbed onto the cushions and flipped the book open to the first page. _

_ “Uncle Rhonin!” Eleanor squealed, patting the open spot next to her. “Come read with me!” _

_ The archmage sat down next to his very much adopted daughter. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do any reading to her, Eleanor would want to do it all herself. She was an incredibly determined spirit who always tried to overcome every obstacle that challenged her. Rhonin admired that about her, whomever her true parents were they must’ve been quite accomplished.  _

_ The little girl read and read with the book being finished in no time. Eleanor closed it up and handed it back to Rhonin beaming up at him proud of her accomplishment of reading it without having to stop.  _

_ “Run along, you have lessons later this afternoon.”   _

_ She climbed down from the couch and made her way to the door of his study. Eleanor turned around, smiled a toothy grin and went through the door.  _

The memory faded just as quickly as it had come. This staff was Eleanor’s one and only, a gift she cherished from Rhonin many years preceding his death and the many ones after that shall come. She tightened her grip around its shaft and placed one end onto the marble ground of the keep, habitually leaning into it as she has done on many an occasion. 

“I think we should depart sooner rather than later.” Eleanor’s voice solemn, the memory still lurking. 

Both Arator and Liora had been given rucksacks by the royal staff. Liora was holding Eleanor’s in her hand and offered it to the mage, who accepted it. The three of them were the oddest band you’d see across the Blackrock Mountains; two paladins and a mage who didn’t like being referred to as such. Today, there journey across the continent of the Eastern Kingdoms would begin and who knows what they would run into. Eleanor was excited, she needed to get out of Stormwind for awhile. Whether she returned would be up to fate. With every departure from Stormwind there was always the possibility of not returning home and Eleanor learned that during every war she had been a part of. She was lucky she had made it this long. 

The ragtag trio said their goodbyes to everyone. Arator to his parents, Liora said a few parting words to Genn Greymane and Eleanor had a moment with Vereesa. A quick hug and parting with “good luck” they were all ready to go. 

The walk out of Stormwind Keep was a godsend for them, it was getting a bit suffocating in there. With each step they were kept in sync by the wood of Eleanor’s staff hitting the cobblestone streets,  _ tap, tap, tap. _

There next destination was the Deeprun Tram to Ironforge. Not only would they bypass unneeded travel, they’d only have to take gryphons over the mountains of Ironforge and get dropped off right by the Thandol Span. 

The air was thick with smoke. Walking deep into the dwarven district always made Eleanor’s eyes water and on this occasion, cough a bit. Arator and Liora appeared to have no problems with the soot filled air and everything else that came out of the forges. Dwarves and humans were pounding away at their anvils. Others were blasting air into their forges emanating more smoke into the already polluted air. The sound of metal being forged into steel was familiar to Eleanor’s ears. All throughout her adult life, when she was surrounded by metal work it wasn’t soon after it was followed by war. 

She hoped that wasn’t the outcome of their work, the idea of war fatigued her. It hadn’t been too long since the soldiers of the Alliance had returned to their homes from the Broken Isles. Everyone was exhausted from fighting the Legion and there was much joy and celebration when the heroes of the Alliance returned home. Eleanor couldn’t remember a time when she had drank so much ale. The Pig and Whistle was out of spirits for a week. Their solace, at least a few peoples, didn’t last long; the Horde was already at it again. With the plunging of his vast weapon into Azeroth, Sargeras had unearthed the very lifeblood of the world soul, Azerite. This new mineral was already being exploited by the goblins, they were always after ways to make a quick gold. Eleanor had received this knowledge through her own contacts in SI:7.

The mage  _ really _ didn’t want to go to war again. It was one of the reasons after the war she had devoted all her time to study. In effect she wanted to retire, but when His Majesty personally summons you, you answer. After Rhonin’s death, Eleanor had given up magic almost entirely. She had always been well taught in the art of marksmanship, which is how she survived these last few wars. Now, she was back at it with her staff in hand. Eleanor still had her bow and full quiver at the ready, she  _ wouldn’t  _ have to use magic if she didn’t want to. 

The Deeprun Tram, the underground tram that spanned from Stormwind to Ironforge was at the ready for them. Eleanor held on to it for her life as it suddenly accelerated down into the depths of the earth. The artificial wind that was created by their travel almost push Eleanor off the tram. Her hands were like stone, unmoving from her perch that kept her upright and alive; she  _ loathed _ the tram. 

She glanced behind her and could see Arator snickering, hiding his mouth under his gauntleted hand. 

He thought this was funny, eh? She’ll show him funny.

Eleanor jumped up, using the momentum from her hips and slamming herself down with whatever strength she had in her knees. The tram moved violently, but swiftly, side-to-side causing Arator to grasp the side of the tram to stop his own self from falling.

“Don’t do that!” Arator roared over the machines, “Do you want me to fall off?!” 

Eleanor shrugged, grinning in the process. 

“Maybe, it isn’t so fun is it?” In reference to the many deathtraps of the Deeprun Tram. 

Liora, in the process of all of this, had her own hand on one of the upper rails above them. She didn’t move an inch but she apparently found their banter amusing, her mouth curved into a smile. 

It didn’t take too much longer, the tram began to slow down and came to a halting stop that almost caused Eleanor to upend whatever was in her stomach. The three of them sauntered off the public transport and down the corridor into Tinker Town. They quickly passed through and made their way to the Great Forge, where the gryphons would be waiting for them. If Eleanor thought the Dwarven District was bad in Stormwind, she would be in for a surprise when she entered the vast hall in Ironforge. 

The smoke wafted through the air and caused Eleanor to weeze, she put her arm up to her mouth and coughed. 

“Let’s get out of here as quick as possible, please.” She asked between her coughing. Eleanor pulled what would be the equivalent to a hankerchief and tied it around her face just underneath her eyes. That seemed to abide her coughing fit for the time being. Throughout her years, large amounts of smoke always set her off into a coughing fit which is why she was hellbent on avoiding such areas no matter where she went. Today, was an exception apparently. 

The gryphon master was already waiting for them. Three beautiful beasts were saddled and ready to fly them out. Eleanor placed her foot into the stirrup and lifted herself onto the glorious animal’s back. 

“How long do you think it’ll take us to get to the Span?” Eleanor asked the dwarf attending her gryphon.

“Oh,  probably a few hours at the most. Don’t cha’ worry, lass, these beauties will get ya there in no time at all.” 

Eleanor took his words into consideration. A few hours would mean they’d be to the Thandol Span sometime in the afternoon. They’d have to hurry their way across and travel into Arathi Highlands to get to Refuge Point before nightfall. The Kingdom of Arathi, as it was formerly known, was still contested territory. They wouldn’t want to be stuck out in the wilderness for the night because it wouldn’t only be Horde they’d have to watch out for. Anti-Alliance groups were rampant in Arathi, ogres and other creatures were also numerous in number in the former northern kingdoms of Lordaeron. Eleanor was old enough to remember when the kingdoms were still kingdoms. The wrath of the Lich King left much of the northern kingdoms destroyed. Both the Alliance and Horde have tried over the years to establish footholds. The only one Eleanor felt was successful was the Horde conquering Silverpine Forest, but with the reemergence of Gilneas, that too came to a halt. 

As they traveled over the snowy mountains of Dun Morogh and cascaded down into the Wetlands, Eleanor closed her eyes and simply breathed the cool, clean air into her lungs. It was kinder to her than the air inside the city in the mountain. The few hours in the air were a solace, it let them take a moment to gather themselves before this arduous journey into enemy, and for some, familiar territory. Eleanor wasn’t sure if she was ready to see her homeland again.

From their view high up in the sky they could see the Thandol Span coming into view. It was the massive bridge that combined the upper Eastern Kingdoms with the lower kingdoms. The group of gryphons started to make their descent, Eleanor held on to her saddle. They landed right at the edge of the bridge on the opposite side, they were only a few steps away from Arathi. 

Arathi was still a beautiful land even with all the war and strife rumbling through its system. The gryphons had already departed back to Ironforge, they were such smart creatures. The mage watched as her female counterpart pulled out the map Khadgar had given them in one hand while clutching a compass in the other. 

“Refuge Pointe isn’t terribly far from here. We should be able to get there before nightfall.” 

They were off. By this point Eleanor was already annoyed by having to lug her staff the rest of the way and they had only just started. She tried to distract herself on their walk by identifying the plants they passed. 

Wild steelbloom, wild steelboom and even more wild steelbloom. 

That ended quicker than she had anticipated. Eleanor turned her head to the side to hear Arator and Liora conversing behind her. Their main topic of discussion was the Light, Eleanor smiled to herself. 

Paladins. 

It was more than just the Light though, the discussion was more complicated than Eleanor anticipated. She heard Arator discussing what had happened on Argus with her. The end of Xera opened up the door to an even larger conversation, one Eleanor wasn’t keen on keeping tabs with. 

Thick, black smoke was making its way into the sky, forming a black wall of impenetrable darkness. The smell of smoldering wood was emanating strongly into the air as a gust of wind carried it towards them. Eleanor blinked ahead to get even closer, her magic quickly coming back to her. Arator and Liora were swiftly gathering behind her.

_ Something was wrong.  _

They ran as fast as their legs would take them and the closer and closer they got the more they realized what was happening. 

Refuge Pointe was in flames. 

  
  



	3. Stromgarde

The remaining soldiers of Refuge Pointe were trying their damnedest to put out the flames that entrenched the Alliance outpost. Corpses were strewn on the dirt, those of the Alliance and other humans that were garbed in black leather. Eleanor trudged through the blood-soaked ground and over to the remaining forces.

The commander, or who Eleanor assumed was the commander, was organizing whoever was left as a fire brigade. Using whatever water they had to bring the flames down and to save the Alliance’s focal point of operations in Arathi. 

Eleanor stood, her feet spread apart and closed her eyes with the intent and focus she used to draw upon when she was a member of the Kirin Tor. 

She stuck her staff in the earth, it easily went into the soggy dirt and stood firm. She reached deep down into her mind and began to form the necessary pieces together as her hands began to glow as a spell began its formation. Her fingers and hands moved jointly in a precise rhythm and then all together rose them up into the air. As a wave of weakness washed over her body as large shards of ice began to rain down from the sky landing into the torrents of flames extinguishing them. 

Blizzard was always a spell she had used on little occasion, it taxed her for a moment but the nausea subsided; it would take her a while to get used to casting spells again. The shower of shards had done its job; the fires were out but what remained of the refuge was ash. The tents were ash, whatever remained of what appeared to be a wagon was a smoldering pile; it was completely destroyed. 

The sight before her eyes, unfortunately, was not something she wasn’t accustomed to. Throughout her many campaigns of war, this was the norm. Violence and bloodshed was the way this world operated in the past few decades. A time when there wasn’t some sort of conflict between factions was a time when Eleanor had not lived. Her birth, from what little she knew, had coincided during the era of the Second War. She wasn’t even sure what her precise age was. Eleanor presumed it was near thirty for she had been in Rhonin’s care for over twenty-five years. 

Suddenly they were surrounded by the remaining soldiers, their swords draw waving in their faces.

“Who are you?” A woman, who appeared to be the leader, confronted the three of them. Her face was covered in blood and dirt, with her armor covered as well. Blood was running down the edge of her sword; the battle hadn’t occurred that long ago. 

“We are agents of His Majesty King Wrynn,” Eleanor glanced around, “It appears we’ve come at a bad time.” 

The commander’s eyes narrowed but she lowered her sword and ordered her soldiers to do the same. 

“It’s always nice to get a visit from His Majesty’s retinue.” Her voice came out in exasperated breaths but did its best to maintain some sense of authority. 

“We are on a mission for His Majesty,” Eleanor held up her hands, “We had just planned to stay here for the night before heading into Hillsbrad.” 

The commander sheathed her sword and extended a gauntleted hand.

“Commander Nials, Stromgarde Militia.” 

Eleanor took her hand and thought it was going to break by how hard Nials squeezed it. 

“What can we do to help?” Liora offered, Eleanor could already see her hands glowing faintly as well as Arator’s. 

She smiled to herself, paladins were quite the noble ones. 

“Escorting us to Stromgarde would help us immensely.” Nials motioned to everything around her. “There’s nothing keeping us here.” 

“Stromgarde?” Arator was perplexed, had the Alliance forces here finally taken Stromgarde back? 

“We’ve finally liberated Stromgarde and have started rebuilding it as a stronghold. As you can see here,” pointing all around. “The Syndicate got word and obviously wanted to deal us a blow. We did slay this force but not without losses of our own.” 

The bodies of the fallen were all around them. Syndicate and the Alliance had come to blows once again. Lifeless soldiers, their eyes without emotion and faces distorted with their final words. 

Eleanor looked away, this is not how she wished to start their mission but she had a feeling it would only get worse from here on out. 

“We must head to Stromgarde as soon as possible.” 

“What about the bodies?” One of the remaining soldiers inquired. 

Commander Nials held a torch in her hand and walked over the mass of bodies and dropped it.

“There, a funeral fit for a king.” 

Eleanor could see how both Arator and Liora’s faces had contorted into scowls, this was not how you honored the dead. 

“Let’s go, now.” 

Both Arator and Liora muttered under their breath, most likely prayers. 

“Come on,’ Eleanor urged them placing her hand on Arator’s shoulder silently consoling him. His eyes were full of sadness at the lack of a proper burial but there was no time. 

They followed the militia to the rebuilt Stromgarde. Eleanor had never seen it in its past glory but it was a sight to behold. This was to be the new bastion for the Alliance in the fight for Lordaeron she supposed. It had taken years for the Alliance to gain any headway in the region and it must have been a sigh of immense relief for the many people involved with this campaign. 

It was rather lively as they strolled in from Refuge Pointe. Commander Nials strolled up to the man who appeared to be in charge, a face Eleanor recognized and one that caused Arator to nearly jump up in glee.

Danath Trollbane had returned to his homeland. 

His eyes furrowed as he caught sight of most of their condition motioning for medics to come.

“Aid these soldiers!” He barked out. “What has happened?”

“Refuge Pointe is gone, sir. The Syndicate attacked, we’re all that's left of the contingent that was there.”

Trollbane grimaced.

“We have much to ponder then. I bet you are all exhausted.” 

The soldiers of Refuge Pointe were taken farther into the fortress to receive the appropriate attention. Eleanor, Liora, and Arator stayed, they hadn’t done a thing.

Danath’s face lit up when he spotted Arator.

“Young Arator,” Trollbane placed a hand on his shoulder. “How good it is to see you again. What brings you to Arathi?” 

“We are on a mission for Anduin. One that takes us deep into Horde territory.” 

Danath was intrigued but he stopped him.

“There are eyes are ears everywhere, follow me.” 

They followed him into the walled fortress and made their way to its keep. It smelled of newly cut wood and mortar from the stone. A lot of work had been done to it, Eleanor could see that. 

Walking to the highest room of the keep Danath took a seat and offered them to do the same. He uncorked his waterskin.

“Now, tell me where exactly is it you’re going?” 

“We’re headed to Quel’Thalas. The details of our mission are secretive but we are on a search and rescue.” 

Trollbane frowned.

“They’re sending the three of you deep into Horde territory? That’s risky, especially now as Alliance forces are beginning to make some sort of headway.” 

_ Risky. _

That’s all Eleanor had heard this entire time, how risky their mission was. If it was so risky for them, why were they even embarking on it? The mage cracked her knuckles, she just wanted to get on the road again. 

“General Trollbane, I don’t wish to be rude but we should really be heading on our way.”

“Nonsense, stay here for the night. Running around contested territory in dark will not end well. You’ll leave at first light.” 

He spewed out his words as if he were giving them direct orders. There was no point in arguing with him, this was his fortress after all. 

With a swing of his arm, Trollbane called for one of his guardsmen who was emblazoned in a traditional tabard of Stromgarde.

“Take these three to one of the empty rooms in the barracks. Treat them with the utmost respect, they have seen battles beyond your comprehension.” Danath smiled, a flicker of flame in his eyes. “Yes, daughter of Rhonin, even I have heard of your exploits.” 

Arator was bemused but Liora had an eyebrow raised as confusion swept across her face. 

Eleanor waved them off as the guard took them to the room in the barracks they’d be sharing.

The room was dark and musty. There was a fireplace with sconces along the wall, dancing as they flickered. Wooden bunks lined the stone wall of the soldiers’ garrison with feather mattresses, a luxury for the army. A tray of food was resting on a table, Eleanor sat on the edge of the bed and began pulling at her boots. 

“Where’s Arator?” concern awash on Liora’s face.

Eleanor pulled off her socks and wiggled her toes. Stretching the stiffness away from being nestled in a boot all day.

“He hasn’t seen Danath in a long time. He’s a father figure for him more so than Turalyon. Maybe that’s changed since his father is back but he had a special relationship with Trollbane.”

“Kind of like you and Rhonin, yes?” 

Eleanor let her chainmail fall to the ground next to her bed. 

“I guess you could say that. War is brutal when it comes to families. Arator is lucky his parents are alive.” 

“And what of yours?” Liora asked, crossing her legs on her borrowed bed, interested.

Eleanor shrugged.

“One was a high elf and the other was a human. I couldn’t tell you who was which. I was told I was born in Quel’Thalas but I’ve lived with Rhonin since I was five and Vereesa once she came into his life. They both sort of adopted me and I’ve viewed them as my parents since.”

“You’re a mystery then?” 

“You could say that I have no inclination to learn either. I’m rather content with my life.”

Eleanor laid down into the feather mattress. A puff of air escaped between her lips as exhaustion crept it ways into her bones.

“What about you, paladin?” Eleanor propped herself up on a pillow. “Where are you from?” 

Liora had taken off all of her armor and set it by the corner of the bed. She was wearing a plain, white linen shirt as well as a pair of linen pants. Liora was even boasting a pair of socks. 

“I’m from Gilneas.” Her voice carrying a somber tone. “My mother is native to Gilneas but my father was a traveling merchant, he sold trinkets and the like. Once he met my mother one day in the market they married about three months later and I showed up around two years later.

“It became apparent sooner than later I was rather blessed by the Light. I was sent to Stormwind to train with members of the Silver Hand. There I was placed with my mentor and after a time I returned home. Just in time for the King to shut us off from the world.” 

The bitterness in Liora’s voice is something Eleanor was accustomed to hearing. 

“Did you…?”

“Get bit?” Liora leaned back into her pillow. “Yes and as a warrior of the Light I struggle with being a beast of the shadows.” 

“You had no choice,” Eleanor shifted on her bed. “At least you can appear human, I can’t even do that. I am neither human or Quel’dorei and neither race wants to include me. I’m in this constant state of perpetual limbo. The only reason I am tolerated is that of my last name.” 

_ “Windrunner…”  _

Liora let it slip out of her mouth, not low enough to be a whisper nor high enough to be distinctly audible. 

“And that’s not even set in stone.” Eleanor snapped. 

The air was uncomfortable but perhaps some barriers had been broken down by the two companions. 

“What do you remember of your childhood, Eleanor?” 

“Not much,” Eleanor looked up towards the underneath of the bunk bed above her. “Whenever I try to think back in it, it’s incredibly hazy. The furthest back I can remember to is when I was placed in Rhonin and Vereesa’s charge.”  

“You remember absolutely nothing prior to that?” 

Eleanor cocked an eyebrow. 

“Why would I? I was rather young.”

Liora turned away. 

“I just find it interesting, that’s all.” 

Eleanor’s glowing blue eyes softened. 

“I didn’t mean to…”

Liora waved her hand. 

“No, I’m being too inquisitive.” She pulled the blanket over her body. “Good night, Eleanor.”

With a wave of her own hand, Eleanor dimmed the intensity of the sconces. She grabbed some food from the tray and scarfed it down rather quickly, realizing she was actually rather ravenous; she’d have to eat as big of breakfast as she could in the morning. It would be the last good meal she’d have for a while. 

She pulled her own blanket over her body and even channeled some magic to warm herself up. Eleanor stayed awake for quite a while, long enough to hear Arator retire to his bunk and for his breathing to relax. 

Tomorrow they would venture deeper into Horde territory and every passing day would bring her closer to her homeland. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Hi, I am alive. I let this story get away from me. Since I began doing this I have graduated college and I am now also employed. I truly have no excuse to not update this and finish it. My goal is to update weekly, but I have to come up with a schedule. I’d ask you to be patient, but you’ve been so much more. I wanted to make each chapter 3000+ but I don’t think that is going to happen. I’ll try to have at least 1,500+.   
> Again, I am so sorry I let this get away from me.


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